


Duty Calls

by TheCursedTypewriter



Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Fluff, M/M, have a fic, this fandom is probably dead but u know what???, wholesome relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedTypewriter/pseuds/TheCursedTypewriter
Summary: A run-of-the-mill sick fic in which we see Konoe being the responsible one always





	

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As crowded as the Inn’s kitchen often got with all of the pots and goods, there was no doubt that comfort could be found amidst the squeeze of space. Ingredients of all kinds were stored away in their own separate pins and containers, easy to spot and easier to pick apart. Pots were stacked in neat havoc on the ledges of counters, and pans hung helplessly from various hook suspensions around the ceiling. Most of the cutlery was easily accessible, if not already strewn about the counter tops. While Konoe would normally deem the area bedraggled and cramped, unfit for anyone to navigate properly, he’d found an underlying order in the discord of the room. One that he’d quickly picked up when Bardo had fallen ill.

With a spring festival soon approaching, most of Bardo’s time had been devoted to cooking, cleaning, decorating, and getting what sleep he could in dispersion through the preparation. With the festival came an influx of customers, and with an influx of customers came the Inn’s highest paying month of the year. Giving the people a luxurious stay ensured a grand tip and higher popularity. Needless to say, there wasn’t a second he could waste with the stakes at hand.

So when he’d gotten word that a shipment to the Inn would be delayed, he’d wasted no time in leaving the Inn in Konoe’s hands and heading out to haul them back himself. Through the heat, the wind, and the rain. 

For two days he’d been absent, Konoe juggling the responsibilities of the Inn in his place. Irritation, fear, and determination fueled his fire as he manned the establishment. For two days Konoe stood firm against the onslaught of visitors, rivaling each personality and attitude with one of his own. It’d proved a tedious and quick paced, almost too quick for Konoe at times, but such came with the job. Short on staff, and shorter on the head of the place, all of the effort would need to come from somewhere.

When he’d returned sometime after work hours, Konoe was more than delighted to have him back; Dripping wet, three large sacks slung over his shoulders, and drained of almost all color. He’d played off his sickness with exhaustion to start, setting the bags down for Konoe to put away and trudging off to their room for some rest. Konoe had only bought it for that night.

‘All that hassle for some potatoes, some radishes, some onions….’ he’d thought to himself bitterly, brows pulled tight as he minced scallions on a cutting board.

It’d been three days, and Bardo showed no signs of improvement. It was only after he’d sneezed in a customer’s dish did Konoe force him to rest. Working while ailing would do more harm than good.

Scraping the scallions in alongside various other veggies and spices, he took a moment to breathe. It was the end of the work day, and all of the patrons were off in their suites and fast asleep. He devoted the extra time now to prepare a meal for Bardo, whom wailed helplessly from the backroom. He could hear his whines through the clattering of pots as he tidied up the mess he’d made.

“I haven’t seen you all day!” Bardo sobbed.

He can hear him rolling in the bed they shared, the framing creaking with his weight. 

“Can’t you take a break to come and see me?”

Konoe rolls his eyes, placing the lid over the steaming pot. He does so from a great distance, of course; Fire, regardless of how often he found himself around it in Bardo’s company, would never be considered safe or comfortable. If he didn’t get to the elder’s side soon, there was no doubt he’d make an attempt to get up himself and start wandering around the place.

“Stay where you are.” the younger cat orders sternly, massaging the bridge of his nose. The hours spent working were finally beginning to catch up to him, it seemed, each step getting progressively lazy. He pads over to their quarters grumbling soft profanities to himself.

Upon entering the room, he isn’t at all surprised to see what he does.

Bardo, a grown man, clinging to his pillow, glowing face buried deeply into the squishy exterior of it, the sheet tucked under his chin and an extra quilt now scrunched up on the floor. His brows furrow.

“I already told you to stop throwing this thing off.” Konoe says sorely, gathering the heavy blanket up in his arms.

“It gets too hot.” Bardo replies simply, his response muffled by the pillow against his mouth. Konoe gently runs his hand under Bardo’s bangs and slides the sweaty hair back. He was really burning up. The last time he’d checked, the man was freezing cold. 

“You’re on fire…” he whispers to himself, a pang of dread ringing in his chest.

A sigh escapes his lips. However, he is relaxed by the warm palm that comes to rest over the top of his hand. Bardo’s purrs come heavy and slurred; sickly.

“Just what’re you doing now?” Konoe asks softly, in a tone that he isn’t sure is meant to convey anger or concern. Bardo turns his head away from the pillow, pushing it up instead into Konoe’s hand more. He smiles weakly, his twisted features slowly unwinding.

“Your hands are freezing,” he hums quietly, chest falling slow with each labored breath. “It feels good.”

His hands wouldn’t stay cold, sadly. With Bardo’s body temperature, he was more than sure that both of his own hands would be sweaty and overheated the longer they stayed connected to him. It was idiotic to take relief in their temperature so soon. Konoe debates pulling away and leaving him to fester in his own liquids until the sickness had fled from his body, completing his task in the kitchen, cleaning up, and sleeping out in the front desk.

Pulling his hand away slowly, he replaces it with his other hand, a spark running up his spine at the sounds of relief that bubbled in his partner’s throat.

He couldn’t leave him here to suffer. He deserved it for being so audacious and careless, but he did it in order to provide for his business - for his people, and by extension, for Konoe. The younger male grits his teeth softly. Why did Bardo have to be such an idiot?

“I don’t know what else to do,” the blonde admits, looking over Bardo’s face. “My hands are getting warm, and I can’t keep them cold forever.”

The larger cat laughs in short spurts of scratchy sound, throat worn out by his illness.

Konoe glares daggers.

“What?”

“You’ve never had to take care of someone with the flu before, have you?” Bardo peeks up at Konoe playfully, brow cocked. Konoe frowns, pulling his hand away. Maybe letting him sit in his own agony seemed justified after all. 

“Why does it matter?”

“You’re free to use a rag and water, dummy.” 

...Oh.

Konoe’s cheeks swell with color. That grin on Bardo’s face brews a special kind of hate in his gut. Quickly, he rushes off to fill a flat bowl with water, tossing a rag in and hauling it back to the bedroom. Bardo obediently rolls onto his back when Konoe hovers over him, tilting his chin up. 

When the rag connects to his forehead, the man’s eyes snap open.

“Why is it warm?”

“You said you wanted water and a rag.”

“Yes, but, you’re supposed to use cold water.”

Irritation bubbles within his body now. He wasn’t being clear with his instructions. If what he’d wanted was cold water and a rag, why hadn’t he said so? Begrudgingly, Konoe snags the rag from his head and returns to the kitchen.

_____

 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Bardo hardly gets the chance to prop himself up against the wall properly when the question is asked. He sighs.

“I barely sipped at it.”

Konoe was aware of his jumpy reaction. Even more so of the way his tail twitched in anticipation. It was the first time Bardo had tasted any of the cooking he’d done around the place, and the idea of feeding a chef was terrifying. Especially when that chef had years of experience with cooking. Konoe looks aside and breathes a soft “oh” before rubbing the back of his neck. He was a quick learner, but for some reason he found himself incapable of really getting cooking down anytime soon.

Bardo nods to him, before digging around in the soup with his chopsticks. 

A pale green light floods the room, outlining Bardo’s features vividly. Konoe absolutely forbade the use of fire in their sleeping space, and so in his company Bardo turned to guiding leaves. It was a weaker light, but the one pro to using it was the way it dusted Konoe in an almost ethereal glow.

He plucks up a few strips of pork and a grand helping of veggies. His brows raise.

“Tonjiru?” he asks, nodding over to Konoe. The cat nods, letting the Inn uniform slide off of his shoulders. The air is warm and stuffy, no doubt a result of their hoard in the bedroom. It beat the cool chill of the wind outside for sure.

Bardo inspects the meal closely, turning the chopsticks about in order to get a better view in the low light. Konoe huffs, cheeks reddening nervously. That definitely wasn’t making him feel any better. Stuffing his arm into a loose robe, he calls over his shoulder.

“Do I have to start spoon feeding you, too?” It comes out frustrated and discordant as he stuffs his other arm into a sleeve, tying it impatiently at his waist. Bardo had to be doing this just to rile him up.

Bardo ignores his threat easily, dipping the serving back into the juice briefly before digging in. He seems to process its flavor and heat, nodding to himself with closed eyes. Part of Konoe is afraid that Bardo won’t enjoy it. He won’t voice this, however. He could never.

After a silence that has Konoe watching in patient agony, Bardo finally opens his eyes, and smiles.

“I wish I were able to taste your work, Konoe.” 

 

_______

 

Three weeks have passed since Bardo had contracted a fever.

Waiting for the illness to pass felt like an eternity to Konoe. For a short time, he feared that their final battle all those years ago had been in vain, and the Sickness hadn’t been eliminated at all. For a few nights, he sat up past dawn behind the front desk, his face buried in his arms, body rocking with soft sobs and harsh shivers. For that time, he’d feared that maybe that hadn’t really escaped death itself.

Those nights, he had never really caught sight of Bardo just around the bend, watching quietly from afar. Too heartbroken to leave, but too sick to incite Konoe’s rage.

He’d worked his hardest to get well, and did as he was told - a real change from what he’d been used to doing himself.

Up and well, Bardo never passed up an opportunity to be affectionate.

Be it as they passed each other in the kitchen, late at night when they washed dishes or swept up, or out and about as they ran errands, he never hesitated to lavish his partner in his undying attention and ardor.

Often times Konoe would get flustered and hesitate, pull back or shove him away, red in the face complaining about how he didn’t like what he did. The moment they had time to themselves in privacy, however, Konoe soaked up every drop of his love.

The moon is high in the sky when they’re finally able to rest, side by side on their bed. Konoe is the first one to roll over and rest against Bardo’s side, the larger cat happily winding an arm around his shoulder and hugging him close. It had taken a lot of time, but Konoe had eventually found the confidence and comfort in Bardo’s company to be the first to engage more intimate acts.

“So, you like it better when we’re alone?” Bardo asks the smaller cat in his arms. Konoe raises his brow, cheek flush to his partner’s chest. The steady thrum of his heart was slowly lulling the boy to sleep.

“Like what?”

“This.” Bardo gives Konoe’s body a soft squeeze, pressing his face into the top of his head. “Being like this.”

Konoe makes a soft sound. 

It was difficult to explain, at least to Konoe. While he was very much happy with their relationship, finally comfortable enough to be held without fear that it was some perverted ploy, there was an aspect about himself that he was sure would never change. He was shy. The idea of onlookers being able to watch everything that Bardo did, how freely he expressed his passion, how open he was about their love; it was all just so… so…

“Are you embarrassed?” 

Konoe blinks.

In the dim light of the room, he can almost see Bardo’s expression drop. Why would he think that? The blonde cat sits up with an annoyed expression, the robe he donned sliding off of his shoulder in the process. 

“Don’t say dumb things like that,” he almost growls, hiking the sleeve back up over his arm. “That’s not how I feel.”

“...I see.” Bardo hums softly, allowing his hand to fall to Konoe’s hip. The boy doesn’t flinch, nor does he look to it. He knows better than to assume every move was lascivious.  
The tiger printed cat takes a deep breath, thumbing the outline of Konoe’s hip bone. His eyes are lost in thought, gazing up at the ceiling.

“You just like privacy more?” 

Konoe nods. Bardo’s expression seems to relax significantly. 

“I understand.” he laughs softly, pulling a bit at Konoe’s side. The younger male only scoots closer to his chest, leaning back against him slightly. It was nice to hear something other than complaining for a change; even better to actually talk with him.

“What can I say?” the elder puffs out, running his hand through his hair. “I’m a real romantic guy.”

Konoe rolls his eyes. “You’re a real idiot, too.”

Bardo mocks the hurt that follows his words. Clutching a hand over his chest and frowning. “Me? An idiot? You hurt me, Konoe.”

“It’s true!” Konoe continues with the taunting, crossing his arms over his chest and lying back on Bardo’s stomach.

“You go out and disappear for a couple of days and then come back sick and whiny because you ran in the rain, all for some dumb vegetables.” 

Realization hits Bardo before offense, and he sits up so suddenly that he squishes Konoe in his lap. 

“Oh! You’ve just reminded me.” 

Hopping out of bed, Bardo disappears to the kitchen waving for Konoe to stay put. And put does Konoe stay, sitting up in the bed, confused and disheveled. There’s soft clattering, the sound of drawers opening and closing, and finally a relieved chuckle. Before long Bardo reenters the bedroom holding a smaller sack than the ones he’d first hauled in, a red sack tied shut with a frayed rope. Plopping on the bed, he rests the bag before Konoe’s knees.

“I figured that I’d need to give you something as an apology for my absence. I guess it totally slipped my mind to give this to you when I got sick.”

He pecks Konoe on the cheek briskly, muttering a soft apology against his ear before leaning back to watch him unravel the wrapping. Konoe does so slowly, weary of whatever trick he may have had hiding in the bag.

With cautious movement, he unties the rope and rests it on the floor, gently taking a corner of the thick fabric, peeling it back, and -

No way.

He had to be joking.

In an instant Konoe melts, wide eyed and red faced, gazing upon the gift before him. Five gorgeous, ripe, colorful Kuim, all gathered in the center. 

Konoe could cry. “Bardo… Where…?”

“Well,” he chimes, scooting closer to his partner. “We worked pretty hard last month, you more so than myself, and I felt that you deserved a little reward for your endurance. I know the spring festival isn’t light on anyone, and I’m proud you could handle it so well. It took me a while, but I found a place where I could trade a few stalks of komatsuna.”

Konoe could kiss him right now.

For a little while Konoe examines the fruit, picking up the heavy bodies and giving them a gentle squeeze. They’d be perfect in a pie, or sliced up, or squashed, or even like this. The vibrant color of it filled him with an excitement he hadn’t felt in ages; a childish giddiness that made his tail sway. He could already recall the flavor; that bitter sweet jolt of flavor that made his mouth water endlessly.

Quickly, Konoe turns to kiss at Bardo’s mouth, fleeting pecks slowly melting into passionate smooches. The younger cat pulls away with a bashful grin, brushing off the love struck man with a brief shrug of his shoulder before taking up the fattest Kuim in the bunch. Bardo, red faced and purring, lies on his side beside Konoe’s hip. His gaze is warm and amorous as he watches his lover delve into the gift. 

“You’re welcome. And thank you.” 

 

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**Author's Note:**

> LMAO THIS GAME WAS MADE IN 2006 NO ONE IN THIS FANDOM IS ALIVE ANYMORE
> 
> Regardless if you know the game or not, thank you so much for reading! Hopefully this was a blast from the past that looks less into how much Konoe's butt can hold and more into the lighter stuff.


End file.
